


His Majesty's Avengers

by MiladyDragon



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Demons, Dragons, Elves, F/M, Fairies, M/M, Magic, Violence, Wizards
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-22
Updated: 2013-09-05
Packaged: 2017-12-24 06:53:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/936721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiladyDragon/pseuds/MiladyDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Shield Protectorate has been at peace for decades, until strange happenings on the northern borders stir up events that cause His Majesty, Nicholas the Second, to set events in motion that could help the kingdom...or create even more chaos.  Because, without someone discovering the true reasons behind the attacks on the Protectorate's peace, no one stands a chance of stopping things from spiraling out of control.  </p><p>And, once that happens, it could spell disaster for everyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my attempt at an Avengers Fantasy AU, because I'm a firm believer that all of my fandoms need one. This borrows events from the Avengers and from its various movies leading up to it, but when events twisted to fit a fantasy setting. 
> 
> Also, the tags may change as the story progresses, as may the pairings. 
> 
> This is unbeta'd, so any mistakes are mine and I didn't catch them. Also, posting may be sporadic at first, because I've got myself involved in a couple of challenges that are coming due, so I apologize in advance for that.

 

It was a beautiful early fall day, late enough in the year that most of the summer humidity had dissipated, but the heat remained as a pleasant warmth that soaked into the bones and loosened the muscles.

It was also a good day to put the junior knights through their paces.

Lord Sir Phillip Coulson, Knights’ Commander of the Shield Protectorate, stood at an easy parade rest as his eyes scanned the approaches to the knight’s practice field, waiting for the newest crop of knights to arrive for training, their spurs still too sharp and bright to have seen any action.  Mostly they were made up of the scions of wealthy or powerful families, and had no experience whatsoever in combat but, because of their connections, received an automatic pass into the ranks of the Protectorate’s knights. 

It was Coulson’s job to weed through the dross and find the pearls among the bunch.  Not that he thought he would discover much; he’d gotten intelligence on most of the twenty he would be training, and despaired at the lack of anything promising.  Only the best made it into the formal Knights of the Protectorate, and from what Coulson had found out he was looking at perhaps two or three making it to the end of the training period.  Then, of course, there would be the ones whose parents would complain to His Majesty about the ‘low-blooded bastard’ that the King had elevated to the rank of Knights’ Commander who had washed out their precious child, to which the answer would always be some polite variation of the words ‘fuck off and die’. 

Or maybe not so polite, depending on whom was doing the complaining.

Besides, Coulson’s parents had been duly married by a priest of the Triune God , thank you very much.

The trainees began filtering in, and Coulson watched them, picking out the few that he had hope in eventually training not to get themselves killed.  He had particular hopes for Lady Bishop’s daughter, Kate as she wished to be called, and wanted to point her out to Hawk the next time his lover was out on the field.

Soon the young knights were lined up an a pair of ragged rows in front of him, only a couple looking as if this was serious and not some sort of party. 

Well, they’d realize soon enough.

Coulson eyed them critically.  He needed to gain control over them immediately, but already there were at least three of them he didn’t see lasting the week. 

He didn’t raise his voice as he called for attention.  The majority of the junior knights did go immediately into stiff postures that were as close to full attention as Coulson knew he would get on the very first day.  The three he’d picked out as failing quickly quietened eventually, but it was only after Coulson had come to stand in front of their little group, staring them down. 

“Do I have your attention?” he asked quietly, spearing them each with his best glare. 

One of the three straightened up, but the other two were giggling in a most annoying way.  “Yes, sir,” the one who seemed to get it answered.

“And your friends?”

The boy opened his mouth, but quickly closed it, showing at least some modicum of sense.  Coulson knew instinctively that he had been about to denounce them as any friends of his, but had apparently decided that silence was golden and was the best way to keep out of trouble.

The other two turned to face him; one, getting a closer look at Coulson’s expression, paled a little; while the other seemed to just shrug it off, even though he did come to a form of attention.

Yes, Coulson was going to have fun when it came time to wash him out of the training…unless the boy managed to surprise him, which he doubted.  Every year he had one just like this one: thinking he knew everything and with a sense of entitlement that couldn’t be chipped away with a battle axe.

Satisfied for the time being, Coulson spun on his heel and walked back to where he’d been standing, his gaze roaming over his newest recruits.  “Welcome to the first day of your first year in training,” he greeted them, keeping his voice low, but pitched forward enough so that everyone would still be able to hear what he was saying.  “If you didn’t already know, I am Lord Sir Coulson, and I will be your worst nightmare if you screw up…and your best friend if you do eventually get through the training to become a Knight of the Protectorate.”  It was a variation of the same speech he gave every time, and it felt like he was pulling on a well-worn pair of boots. 

He seemed to have their complete attention, so he continued.  “I will perform your initial testing, and then will assign you each to a senior knight who will see to your training.  You will listen to this knight, because they know what they are talking about.  You will obey that knight’s every order, even if it’s to muck out a stable or clean their armor.  You will do this joyfully and without complaint.  If you feel like you are being treated unfairly…too bad.  This is the exact same training every knight has received when they first arrived, and they will know what they are doing.  No matter who your parents are, you will not get any special privileges and you will not be able to beg or bribe your way out of any task you will be assigned to do.”

Coulson began walking along the line of junior knights.  “That is not to say we don’t value individual thought,” he continued.  “A knight needs to be able to think for themselves and to be self-sufficient, but there is always a way to go about this without stepping over someone to do it.  If you have something to say to your training knight, you will do it politely and with respect.  If they do not listen, and you feel that what you have to say would be of benefit, you then have the recourse to speak to another knight, who will either agree with you or tell you to get back to your duties.  If, for some reason, you still feel you have a case, then you may approach either Sir Jasper Sitwell or Sir Melinda May, who are my Seconds, and I will point them out to you later so you don’t go bothering someone else who has better things to do than to listen to you whine about how much you hate getting your hands dirty.”

Coulson reached the end of the line, and turned to stroll back, his hands clasped behind his back.  “I will warn you…going to Sir Jasper or Sir Melinda is only for the most important subjects.  If you find yourselves in an untenable position – for example, under some sort of emotional, physical, or sexual harassment from a senior knight – then feel free to see them, and if it’s warranted they will bring it to my attention.  In case I am not available, then either of my Second Knights have the power to address your concerns and to investigate thoroughly any accusations you may have.  If you decide that you want to get preferential treatment by figuratively slinging mud at a superior, that will not happen.  We _will_ find out if you are lying.”

He made his way back to where he’d started, and then turned to regard these children, most of who believed they deserved a place among the Protectorate Knights simply by stint of their wealth or family name.   “Finally, I do not condone hazing of any kind.  If you feel you are tougher and stronger than one of your fellow trainees or any peasant or servant that may get in your way, prove it by not beating them up, making them eat horse dung, or any other childish pranks you feel are appropriate to the situation.  I can assure you that they are not, and that will get you a one-way ticket on the next coach home to your mothers and fathers faster than almost anything else you can try to pull.  It may also get you some time served in the royal dungeons, depending on the degree of offense.  To be a Knight of the Protectorate is an honor, one that you will be expected to live up to for the rest of your natural lives.  That means you do not bully _anyone_.  There are no exceptions.  Do you understand what I’ve said, or do I need to go over any of it again?”

Various versions of, “I understand,” echoed across the practice field.

Coulson wasn’t sure about that, but let it slide.  “Then we’ll break into pairs and I want to see what sort of weapons skills you may have.  However, you will be using these wooden practice swords,” he waved toward a stack of the dulled and padded weapons just behind him, “and from this moment on you will not use a sharpened blade for any reason unless it’s in a state of war or you need a knife to cut your food with.  It doesn’t matter how much training you received from your fathers or mothers, I am quite certain what they showed you was no way up to par of a knight.  Any weapons you have brought with you will be held within the Royal Armory until you have proved that you can use it without stabbing anyone by accident.”

That caused an upset rumble from the trainees, and a young girl at the back put her hand up.  “Yes, Trainee Bishop?” he responded.

The junior knight in question looked a bit surprised that he’d known who she was, but then Lady Bishop’s daughter was easy to recognize with the quiver and longbow she had strapped across her back, and from the reports he had read she knew exactly how to use it.   “Does that mean I have to give up my bow as well?” she asked, her voice challenging.

 “Yes, trainee, it does.”  Coulson held up a hand to prevent her from arguing back.  “I am well aware of how proficient you are with your weapon of choice, but for the time being you are under the same requirements as everyone else.  There are no exceptions to this.  As I said before, there will be no special treatment for anyone, even though I understand your concern.  However, you have nothing to be worried about with keeping it stored within the armory.  It will be safe there, I promise you.  Also, because you are our only trainee in this group with a bow specification, I have asked that Master Hawk see to any weapons’ specific lessons you might need.”

A grin lit up her face.  Of course she would know about Hawk; he was the greatest bow fighter in the Protectorate, and any archer worth their salt would be aware of him. 

“However,” he continued, “that won’t be for a while yet.  For now though, we ask that you abide by the rules until that time.”

“Yes, Lord Sir Coulson,” she agreed happily.

“Very good.”  He motioned forward a group of Fortress pages, resplendent in their black Protectorate tabards.  “Now, these youngsters will collect your weapons for storage in the armory.  They will be well taken care of until such time as you will be granted permission to use them…or you are sent home.  Any other questions?”

There were none, although he did receive some dark looks from several of the junior knights as they handed off their swords.  Coulson let it slide; he’d received worse from men and women more powerful than these children, and he hadn’t let them faze him, either.

During the collection, Sir Jasper appeared, and stood next to Coulson.  “That’s always such a lovely speech,” he sighed, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye. 

Coulson didn’t even bother to roll his eyes at the comment.  He and Jasper had been friends for years, ever since they’d met in the Royal Army.  It had been on Coulson’s recommendation that Jasper be accepted into the Knights, and he’d quickly risen in the ranks to become one of Coulson’s most trusted confidantes and Seconds. 

He didn’t come alone.  A loud screeching filled the air, making nearly all of the junior knights either jump or cringe.  Coulson looked up, smiling as his dragon, Lola, dropped out of the cloudless sky to land squarely on the padded shoulder guards he wore over his armorfor just that purpose, making  him rock a bit in place.

He reached up and stroked her red, silky-strong scales as she settled around his neck, her tail looping gently around his neck.  He’d had her since he was ten, when the small bit of magic he’d inherited from his mother’s dissolute bloodline had decided to rear its head and cause a small outpouring of excitement within his family.  When it proved that taming a dragon was all he could do, the joy had turned swiftly to disappointment. 

It had bothered him at the time, but as Coulson had gotten older and had made his way through life, he’d grown glad for what he had, especially with Lola.

The dragon chirped happily in his ear.  Coulson didn’t know how his life would have turned out if Lola hadn’t come into his life.  He might even have accepted that scribe apprenticeship that his father had arranged for him, that had led him to run away, lie about his age, and join the Royal Army.   He never would have met Nicholas, or Jasper, or any of his many friends; nor would he have met his lover.

No, that didn’t bear thinking about.

Most of the junior knights were back in line, looking sullen after having given up their weapons.   Coulson simply stared at them coolly, their expressions not bothering him one bit.  “Now,” he said, “we’re going to break you up into pairs and we’re going to see if you really do know one end of a sword from the other.  Sir Jasper and I,” he indicated his companion, “will walk amongst you, taking notes on skill level, to figure out what senior knight would best serve was your instructor for this part of your training.  Now, please take a practice sword and find a partner.”

There was a slight jam at the pile of wooden weapons, but eventually everyone had a sword and was squaring off with a one of their fellow trainees.  The sound of wood smacking against wood was soon echoing over the practice field.

Coulson moved amongst them, Lola perched on his shoulder.  Some of the junior knights were unnerved by the dragon’s presence, and that gave the Knights’ Commander clues by how much they reacted.  He was pleasantly surprised that Trainee Bishop didn’t react except to throw a smile in Lola’s direction; the dragon cooed as the young girl parried a particularly strong swipe from her practice partner, Lord Ben Parker’s nephew, Peter.  He was impressed by them both, but he would see how the rest of the training would go.

He caught sight of the court page as he was adjusting the elbow of one of the more clumsy trainees, one he didn’t see surviving unless the girl improved impressively.  She’d given a squeak of surprise when Lola had chattered at her in the dragon’s way of saying hello, and her sparring partner had taken advantage by slipping under her guard and smacking her hard in the side.  Afterward, she just looked like she wanted to cry, and so Coulson had actually taken pity on her and had shown her a stance to use in order to protect that side of her body. 

Coulson stepped away from the pair, motioning the court page to him.  The child didn’t even look worried by all the flailing going on around them as he bowed.  “Lord Sir Coulson, His Majesty requests your presence in his study at once.”

He nodded.  “Please tell His Majesty that I’m on my way.”

The court page scurried off, the silver trim on his tabard glinting in the sun.  Coulson waved toward Jasper, whose eyes tracked the retreating page and then nodded to him in acknowledgement.  Knowing that the junior knights were in good hands – Jasper was often rougher on the trainees than Coulson himself was, although he was the one with the reputation for it – the Knights’ Commander headed into the fortress, Lola riding on his shoulder comfortably. 

Coulson knew the Fortress from top to bottom, and so had no problem finding the King’s study.  The door was open when he arrived, and he closed it behind him, taking up a proper stance in front of the sumptuous desk where His Majesty was seated.  Lola, chirping, jumped from his shoulder and landed lightly on a clear area of the desk top, demanding attention. 

Nicholas the Second, King of the Shield Protectorate, looked up, his only eye piercing as he regarded Coulson.  He reached over and gave the dragon a good scratch, and she purred.  “Having fun with the kids?” he asked, a wicked undertone to his voice.

Coulson shrugged.  “No more than usual.  I can tell there are quite a few entitled brats in this group, but that’s par for the course.”

“But you’re so good at weeding them out.  Makes me a bit upset that I’m gonna have to send you out on assignment during this training rotation.”

One eyebrow went up.  It had been a while since Coulson had been given a mission away from the Fortress.  “What sort of assignment?” he asked, curious.

“Hawk and Widow are going to be joining us shortly,” he said instead of answering the question, “if they haven’t already.”

There was a small creaking noise from one of the bookshelves, and a section of shelving slid open to reveal one of the two secret passages leading to the King’s study.  Out of the door came the woman known as Widow, stepping gracefully into the room. 

Her name was Natasha, but nearly everyone called her Widow.  Not only was she the Protectorate’s premier assassin and a spy of the first calibre, she was also a Changeling, and it showed in the way she moved and took in everything around her.   The Changelings were children who had been kidnapped from the cradle and raised in the Lost Lands by the Faeries, taught to hate humans and to wreak havoc among them whenever they could.

Luckily for the Protectorate – and the world – Widow had broken through the Faerie programming and had become a good and trusted friend.

There was a soft thud behind Coulson, and he didn’t even have to turn to know that Hawk had arrived as well, most likely through the small window high in the wall.  He wanted to roll his eyes at his lover’s antics.  “You could have come in through the door,” he commented, glancing over his shoulder.

Hawk – his human name was Clinton Barton, but no one really called him that – simply grinned wickedly.  “Where’s the fun in that?” he asked.  His blue eyes twinkled mischievously as he came to stand at Coulson’s right.   He’d obviously just come from the archery range; his blond hair was pulled back from his face, and his pointed Elven ears were on prominent display.  He hadn’t bothered to remove the arm guard he wore and his bow was looped over the quiver at his back.  The three in the room were some of the very few people allowed to carry weapons in the royal presence. 

“It’s a damned good thing I’m used to all the unconventional comings and goings around here,” Nicholas snarked, “otherwise I’d toss both of your asses in the dungeon before you could make your next sarcastic comment.”

He was joking, of course.  Hawk and Widow didn’t like telegraphing their locations at any given time, preferring the element of surprise over protocol.  Everyone expected it, and it didn’t bother anyone anymore except for anyone new in the Fortress.  Coulson knew for a fact that his lover would be teasing the junior knights by popping up in unexpected places as soon as he could get away with it. 

Widow joined them, standing loose-limbed at Coulson’s left, flanking him and giving off a sense of protectiveness even though there was nothing that he needed protecting from, not there in the King’s study.  That was the three of them, though, always willing to protect the other.  They’d made an excellent team before Coulson had been taken out of the field and promoted to Spymaster as well as his Knights’ Commander duties.

 “Well, now that the Terrible Trio is here,” His Majesty began, “we’ve been getting rumors of strange occurrences in the Jotun Mountains in the north.”

Coulson nodded.  His own people had brought him the information and he had presented it to the King nearly two months ago.

“Frost Giants?” Widow asked.

The King shook his head.  “That’s what we thought at first, them poking their noses out of Jotunheim for the first time since the Asgard kicked their butts about seventy years ago, but now we’re pretty certain they aren’t.” 

Coulson frowned.  “I haven’t heard anything different lately.”  He disliked being out of the loop like that.

Nicholas looked a bit contrite, although Coulson believed it was more for being caught and not because he’d hidden something from his Spymaster.  “I had the cadre I sent out take an Oculus with them, in order to get reports faster.”

The Knights’ Commander nodded although he still wasn’t happy about it.  Having a royal Oculus meant that anyone with one end could communicate directly with the other, and that one was in the King’s own possession.  Coulson had one of his own, and his agents would be able to speak to him through it, and had saved more lives than could be counted. 

“Anyway,” he went on, “the cadre hadn’t really seen anything, and I was beginning to wonder if this was a wasted trip, because then I would have been very put out.  But, three weeks ago, the commander of the troop found something that he had to contact us about.” His Majesty sighed.  “One of the high mountain villages had been completely destroyed, and everyone in it killed…men, women, and children.”

Coulson could feel Hawk stiffening beside him, and Widow stilled, her face blankly somber.  His own stomach was roiling but he kept it from showing up in his expression.   “Do we have any clue as to who could have done this?” he asked, pulling his calm about him like a familiar cloak.

Nicholas stood and walked toward a large cabinet that Coulson knew from experience was actually a sort of magical safe, where the King kept many of his personal, magical devices. He retrieved something that looked vaguely like some sort of spear.  It had a lethally curved blade mounted onto a length of some sort of wood, golden metal twisting about the haft and forming some sort of handgrip about two-thirds of the way down.  It was an elegant yet deadly weapon.

Coulson didn’t recognize it, despite being familiar with many of the world’s weapons.

However, the reactions of his companions were far different from Coulson’s own puzzlement.

Widow actually hissed, her body arching like a cat that had been tormented until it was on the verge of attack.  Hawk didn’t make a sound, but his eyes narrowed and, while Coulson knew his lover wasn’t religious, he actually made a sign against evil.

“Do you both know anything?” he asked, while Nicholas simply seemed content to stand there and hold the thing.

“It’s magical,” Hawk answered, sounding very reluctant.  “I can sense it, but I don’t know what sort of magic it is.”

“It’s an ancient magic,” Widow added.  “I’m with Hawk; I don’t know what sort of magic it is, either.”

“According to the rider who brought this back,” Nicholas said, “the signs that were left behind indicated something demonic, although he really only based that on the inhuman tracks that were found leading back into the mountains.”

Coulson searched his memory for anything that might have been complementary to the spear.  There was nothing.  “We should get that to the Protectorate’s demonic investigators,” he answered, almost reluctantly.  There was something off about it, now that he’d looked at it long enough.  Yes, the magic in his blood was highly diluted but whatever that spear was still made his skin tingle slightly. 

Lola didn’t like it at all.  She hissed at the spear, rearing up and mantling her wings as if to attack it.  Coulson rested his hand on her head, and she looked up at him, her golden eyes glowing faintly.  The dragon settled down, and took her place on his shoulder, her tiny front claws grooming his thinning hair, a sure sign of nerves in her.

“What’s the matter, gorgeous?” Nicholas crooned.  He put the spear back into the cabinet, and Lola instantly calmed down, chattering loudly.  While the dragon couldn’t really speak, she could feel and Coulson could swear Lola sounded…afraid.

“I’ve never heard her sound like that,” Hawk wondered.

“I have,” Nicholas answered.  “You remember that time we found that magical circle in that house outside of Philadra?  The one that was supposed to have been used to summon a demon?”

Coulson nodded.  He did remember it vividly.  “It was while we were in the army,” he told Hawk, “which was why you didn’t know about it.  We had to have an Archmage come in and deactivate the circle before we could do anything else.”   Lola had literally freaked out and would not go into that house until the Archmage had been finished with clearing the magic.  “I think this might be the proof of something demonic involved.”

“Yeah,” Nicholas rubbed his eye tiredly, “which means I get to go and speak to the Archmage Council.  Lovely.”

Coulson smirked.  “Better you than me, Your Majesty.”  He was with Nicholas; he hated having to deal with the Archmage Council, especially Tony Stark. 

The King rolled his eye.  “In the meantime, I want you and Hawk to head up to the destroyed village.  Get what you can.  The rider who brought back the spear said there were tracks leading up into the mountains.  Go and take a look and see if they mean anything to you, Hawk.  You’re our best tracker; maybe you’ve seen something like it in the past.”

The half-Elven archer nodded.

“Widow,” His Majesty turned to the spy.  “While I go and try to get something out of the Council, I want you to go and speak to Master Bruce Banner.  He’s the demon expert.”

Widow went still once more, and then nodded once, accepting the order.

“Sire,” Coulson said cautiously, “far be it for me to question your orders –“

“Yet you will anyway.”

 Coulson acknowledged the sarcastic comment with a nod.  “Master Banner is extremely dangerous.  The last time he was in the Protectorate he destroyed Herelym, although I’ll grant you that it wasn’t entirely his fault…”  He’d had help from the creature named the Abomination, and was actually trying to stop a rampage that would have killed thousands more.

“He really is the best,” Nicholas answered. “And you know he seems to have gotten a bit of control over the Big Guy.  Besides, even if the Archmage Council comes through you know damned well they most likely won’t want to do whatever needs to be done to get rid of whatever demons are out there.  Well, maybe Stark would, but he’s not really interested in that field of study. Perhaps Banner will know what we’re dealing with and how to take care of it. We need to find out what destroyed that village and remove the threat.”

He was correct, of course.  They did need to find out whatever has destroyed an entire village, before it could be done again, and the Archmage’s Council were a bunch of hide-bound idiots only interested in what could get them ahead.  They wouldn’t want to get involved unless it affected them directly.

Coulson had had an agent on Master Banner for a couple of years now, keeping out of sight and following the demon-cursed man.  There hadn’t been an incident in two years and he had been doing good work in the kingdom of Albion, although he had to really keep his head down since King Uther had outlawed magic and Banner was as magic as they came, even if it wasn’t exactly his fault for what had happened.

“I’m asking this of the three of you because you’re loyal and I can trust you,” the King went on.  “You know what you’re doing, and I believe you’ll be the ones who will help the most in avenging those dead villagers.  If we have a demon problem then it needs to be stopped as soon as possible.”

“Banner was last spotted in Albion,” Coulson said, bending to the inevitable.  “You’ll have to be careful, Widow.  If they find out you’re a Changeling, chances are you’ll be burned at the stake.”

She smiled coldly.  “They’d have to catch me first.”

“Get me some answers, people,” Nicholas ordered.

Recognizing a dismissal when he saw one, Coulson bowed, Lola claiming his shoulder once more.  He left the study accompanied by Hawk; Widow left the same way she’d entered, through the secret passageway.

“What do you think?” Hawk asked as they matched strides and headed down the corridor.

“I think I’m going to need to have Jasper take my trainees,” Coulson asked blandly. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Archmage Anthony Stark was bored.

He slumped a bit in his ornate yet uncomfortable chair, his elbow firmly planted on the armrest and his chin resting on his hand, idly wishing he knew a spell he could use to keep his eyes open.  He thought that might be something worth working on, and made a mental note to see what he could come up with once he got out of this stultifyingly dull meeting.

He absolutely hated these things, because nothing ever got done.  He’d stop going but it was about the only thing Pepper asked him to do, and he while he did drag his heels and pout – adorably, he might add – once a month when one of these things came up he did go because one: Pepper had been perfectly amenable to taking his place at the head of the Stark business empire without much complaint, freeing him up for more fun things like inventing spells that would actually be useful; and two: Pepper was his lover and could easily cut off his bedroom privileges if he pissed her off by not doing what she’d asked. 

The only reason Tony actually had a place on the Council was because it had been his father’s seat, and the only reason Howard Stark had had it was because of his creation of the Paladin, back during the Hydra War.  The then-members of the Council had wanted Howard to share the details of the alchemical spells that had changed a sickly Steve Rogers into the Paladin of the Protectorate, but he’d jealously taken the secret to his grave. 

Of course, the Archmage Council then had expected Tony to share it once Howard was gone.  And hadn’t it been a laugh and a half when he couldn’t do it.  Tony was a genius; no one could argue with that, but that didn’t mean he knew what had been on his dear father’s mind...not that he’d wanted to. 

Honestly, he could really do without being surrounded by the infighting amongst the doddering fools that made up the Council.  The average age of the twelve Archmages was easily seventy-five…and that was with adding Tony’s own relatively young age to the mix.  But Pepper had had a point when he’d complained about the age thing and how they didn’t seem to care much about anything except their own power and prestige: that change began with a single person, and Tony could be that person.  He could remake the Council from within and turn it into something good once the current crop of Archmages were dead and dust.   He just had to have patience, which really wasn’t Tony’s strong suit but the eventual payoff would be worth it.

There were already several replacements Tony had in mind…the problem was that the old farts flatly refused to die.  And despite all the irritation he received just by thinking about them he wasn’t willing to resort to poison, or hiring an assassin, to clear the path to his perfect Council.  Hell, he was certain he’d have volunteers to take on the job but that simply wasn’t Tony’s way.

Damn his conscience.  But then he wouldn’t have become the man he was without it, and damn it, he was proud of himself.  He wasn’t about to let a bunch of ancient Archmages get him all that riled up if he could help it.

Tony stifled a yawn.  He was currently being bored to tears by the head of the Council, Archmage Stern, who was a doddering idiot who had never really created anything original in his life.  That was also an issue Tony had with the Council: they didn’t create, they merely ‘collected’.  He didn’t use the word ‘steal’ because that would imply what they were taking was against the wills of the Mages who had done the actual work.  No, the Archmages felt _entitled_ , and many of the magical community had been taught by these self-same Archmages that this was the way things were.  It made Tony angry, because the best and brightest out there were supporting the Council with their own blood, sweat, tears, and magic.

It was wrong, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it…for now.  Now, he had to deal with the soporific effect of Stern’s droning voice.  He wondered if he could somehow perfect the art of sleeping with his eyes open. 

A heartbeat later, he was sitting up straight, his entire attention on Archmage Stern.  “Would you care to repeat that?” he demanded, voice edging into anger.

The old Archmage smiled, trying to look superior but only managing constipated.  “I really have to say it again?”

“No,” Tony snapped, “but I was giving you the chance to backpedal.  No way in the Triune’s hell are any of you getting anywhere near my Iron Mage Robe.”

He really should have seen this coming.  After all, this was standard operating procedure for the Archmage Council…to ask for something they did not in any way deserve.

“Need I remind you just why I enchanted the robe?” Tony barrelled on, completely ignoring the fact that Stern was about to speak once more.  “It was because no one on this old folks’ Council felt the need to even look for me after I was kidnapped by Genoshan extremists who thought it would be really fun to force me to create battle spells for them!”  His Majesty, King Charles of Genosha, had at least apologized for what his own people had done and had cooperated with Rhodey in order to get him back.  That put King Charles in a very small group of people that Tony actually respected.  “I had to find a way out of that myself, without any help from anyone in this room.  And don’t tell me there wasn’t anything any of you could’ve done.  I’m sure several of you know scrying spells, since you creaking old bastards have to cast them  every time you want to find your own dicks –“

“Archmage Stark!” Stern attempted to bellow, and while it was strident enough to interrupt Tony mid-flow it was more like a whine than a shout.  “We will not tolerate your insufferable attitude –“

“ _My_ attitude?” Tony scoffed.  “You’re the ones who feel like I owe you what I created with my own gifts!” He absently rubbed the place on his chest where the Arkenstone had been lodged while he’d been dying in a damp cave after the Genoshans had botched his capture.   That stone had saved his life, and it was what powered the spells that enchanted the powerful robe he’d created in order to escape. 

He had to calm down.  Taking a deep breath, he feigned relaxing back in his chair.  “I’m not giving you anything.  I created it; it’s mine.  Besides, I’m the only one who can actually power the robe.”  He tapped the cloth-covered Arkenstone, a muffled clinking coming from the impact.  “I don’t trust any of you with that sort of power.  All you want to do is pick the spells apart to try to recreate the proprietary magic I enchanted it with.  That’s not going to happen.”

“What you’ve made can only help the Protectorate.” Stern’s voice went from whining to wheedling, and he almost sounded like a child who wanted to get something from their parent even after they’d been denied.  Which, Tony thought, was more accurate than it had any right to be. 

“See…no,” Tony answered.  “When I hear those words, I automatically think of weaponized magic, and I don’t do that sort of thing anymore.”  He’d made that vow when he’d seen what those damned extremists had been up to.  Tony had learned all sorts of lessons in that cave, during those three months he’d been held captive.  “And there’s no way I’m going to let anything I create be used for war.”

“Isn’t that a bit hypocritical of you?” Stern sneered.   “You haven’t exactly used your so-called Iron Mage Robe for peaceful purposes.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Tony argued.  “I’ve only ever used the robe to stop others from bastardizing my work and injuring innocent people.”  He took a deep breath to settle himself.  “No one will ever get their hands on my magic, and you can bet they won’t be able to duplicate it, either.”  Tony had seen to that himself, by a special binding spell he’d created in order to protect what he’d created.

“So you don’t know about the work Mage Hammer is doing?”  Stern asked snidely.

Tony laughed.   “Of course I do.”  He waved his hand, bringing into being a simple scrying portal.  “And he’s nowhere near close.”  The portal’s surface swirled, and in the circle of magic the entire Council could see right inside Mage Hammer’s personal laboratory. 

He’d never liked Justin Hammer.   The man was a weasel with entitlement issues…and Tony suddenly wondered if the reason Hammer was trying so desperately hard to recreate what Tony had made was that it would be Hammer’s ticket onto the Council.  That wouldn’t surprise him.  “As you can see, Mage Hammer doesn’t know what he’s doing.  He’ll be lucky if he doesn’t blow himself up.”  He gestured toward the scrying portal, where the familiar form of the man who wanted to be Tony’s rival was working in front of a chalk board. 

Tony squinted at what he was seeing, and had to laugh.   “Yeah, he’s getting nowhere.  That particular spell won’t work at all.”  He snapped his fingers, and the portal vanished.  “Some Mage he is…he didn’t even know I was spying on him.  Doesn’t he know basic warding?  Oh wait…apparently not, because I just managed to slice through what he did have!  This is the man you think can give you the secrets you want?  Not by a long shot!”

Stern looked as if he couldn’t make up his mind to look scandalized, or terrified.  He seemed to settle for standing up and casting a look around the other members of the Council, checking their reactions.   They were all muttering and glaring at Tony.   “That was uncalled for, Archmage Stark!”

Tony shrugged, not caring because he really hated these ancient know-it-alls with a passion that is only eclipsed by those that twisted his hard work into something that would kill innocents. 

“Look,” he stood, tired of the bickering, “you can argue all you want, but you have no right to my proprietary spells, and no one is going to be able to recreate them.  I haven’t signed any agreements or anything that gives this Council the right to anything I may have created.  So don’t demand anything of me because you won’t get it.”  Tony slid his chair back under the table, the wood dragging loudly along the stone of the floor.  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have better things to do than argue with you, since you won’t win this.”

With that parting shot, Tony turned on his heel and strode toward the door, letting the sounds of his name as he was called back wash over him.  He ignored it, knowing that Pepper would understand this.  She was the reason he’d been able to completely remake Stark Magicks, and she knew what his magical robe meant to him.  He’d literally put his life into it, and he’d be damned before anyone got their hands on it.

He threw open the door to the tower chamber where the Council met, pushing it shut with a lot more control than he normally would.  He was just heading toward the stone steps that led down the body of the tower when he was surprised to see a familiar, black-clothed form coming up to meet him.

“Archmage Stark,” the man greeted, his tone sounding vaguely sarcastic.

“King Nicholas,” Tony returned, giving him a bow that was about as disrespectful as such a gesture could get.

He hadn’t seen the King since his return from Genosha.  At that time he’d try to get Tony onside for something His Majesty had coined “the Avengers Initiative”, but Tony hadn’t been all that interested.  On paper, the whole thing made some sort of sense; but once Tony had thought about it the venture seemed like a recipe for disaster.  Besides, he wasn’t a team player.

There was a smirk on the King’s face.  “What have you done now, Stark?” he asked, indicating the closed door and the still-audible sounds of the shouting match going on within.

“Hey, this isn’t on me this time,” Tony quickly denied.  Certainly he’d take credit where credit was due, but this wasn’t such a circumstance.  “So, what brings you to corral the old bastards?”

The smirk vanished quickly.  “Unfortunately I need the Council’s help.”

“Good luck with that.”

His Majesty gave that the answer that it deserved: he didn’t say anything.  Instead, he continued, “We have a report of possible demon activity in the northern mountains.  As much as I hate to ask –“

Tony frowned.  That didn’t sound good at all.  “Yeah, getting those idiots to do anything is like pulling dragons’ teeth.  You can try it, but you’re gonna get burned in the process.”  He couldn’t help it; much of his anger at the Council colored his words.   “I doubt they’d know what a demon was if it suddenly appeared in their bedrooms and bit them on their flabby asses.”   Okay, there were two demonic investigators that they had on some sort of contract, but Tony didn’t trust them not to be as idiotic as the rest of the Council.

“What did they pull on you?”

He realized that this wasn’t just a guess on King Nicholas’ part; it must have been written all over his face, and although the King only had one eye Tony swore there was something magical about it, in that it let the man see more than he should.   “What they pull on pretty much any mage they meet…try to usurp or steal their ideas.”

An eyebrow went up.  “They tried to confiscate the Iron Mage Robe?”

Tony snorted.  “Not confiscate, per se…more like asking for it with the assumption of being obeyed at once.  Like I’d give them anything more powerful than a child’s toy.”  He glared.  “I don’t know why you keep them around.”

King Nicholas growled, “Look, we both know the entire Council is corrupt as the day is long, but I need more proof before I can clean house.  The moment I get it, they’re gone and I put a new Council in place.  But, until I get hard evidence, I can’t do anything.  Knowing it and proving it are two different things entirely, especially since the ones who could provide that evidence don’t think the Council has done anything wrong.”

He knew that King Nicholas was right, as much as he didn’t want to admit it.  And then he realized that he was going along with the King, and by the Triune Tony hated agreeing with Nicholas simply on principle, especially when the King had a valid point.

He waved his hand airily.  “I’ll see what I can find in my personal library, if you’d send over the particulars.  Although demonology isn’t my strong suit…”  Neither had it been his father’s, so he was doubtful that he’d find much in the Stark family library. 

“And this is the difference between those idiots and you…you’re willing to help.”  King Nicholas crossed his arms over his chest, his one eye glaring.  “I know you and I don’t like each other…I think you’re an arrogant, self-absorbed ass who has way too much time, money, and magic on his hands; and you think I’m an overconfident bastard who tells more lies than truths...” he gave Tony an evil grin, “which is true, by the way, although I know on principle you think I’m lying even about that.  But, you and I…we care about the Protectorate in our own ways, and want to save innocent lives from any sort of shit that might land on them.  Those trumped-up twits only care about themselves.”

Tony felt very uncomfortable with this sharing of stuff, especially with King Nicholas, and he compensated by using his Triune-given ability to snark right back.  “Your assessment of me is only mostly correct.”

The royal eyebrow went up in question.

Tony walked past the King, calling back over his shoulder.  “I’m not an ass!”

King Nicholas laughed.  “Of course you didn’t deny being arrogant and self-absorbed!”

He couldn’t help it; Tony let a smile creep up over his lips as he made his way down the stairs.

 

**********

 

“Welcome home, Sir,” Jarvis, the air elemental who oversaw everything at Stark Manor, greeted Tony as he entered the foyer of the place he’d lived for as long as he could remember.

“Anything exciting happen while I was gone?” He removed the heavy official robes he’d worn to the meeting and hung them up haphazardly on the hall tree.

“Lady Pepper is home, and is currently reading in the solar.”

That surprised Tony.  When they’d both left that morning, Pepper had said she would be spending the day in the office.  “Did she say why she was back?”

“No Sir,” the spirit answered in its cultured voice.  “However, I received the impression that she was upset about something.”

Tony headed deeper into the manor, going straight for the solar at the back of the great house.  King Nicholas wasn’t the first person to accuse him of being self-absorbed, and Tony could admit that he was a lot of the time simply because there were far more interesting things to play with than to waste time listening to fools, but when it came to Pepper he tried to be a bit more sympathetic when she was bothered by something.  He knew she appreciated his efforts and was perfectly willing to reward good behavior, usually with very energetic sex.

The solar had been built on his mother’s orders, and was a small, comfortable room framed on three sides by floor to ceiling windows, letting the light from the near-noonday sun into the bright and cheery space.  When Pepper had moved into the manor, Tony had given her a free hand in decorating it, and it showed her good taste in the understated fabrics on the three sofas and sandy colored wood of the tables.  Plants also grew in decorative pots around the exterior walls, basking in the sunlight that streamed in.

To be honest, Tony didn’t much care for the room, but it was Pepper’s favorite and so tried to spend some time with her there when he wasn’t up in his laboratory doing fun stuff.

Not that spending time with Pepper wasn’t fun.  Oh, it was.  But she understood his need to create and was happy for him to spend time working in his laboratory.  She was fantastic that way.

Pepper was curled up on one of the sofas, leaning against the overstuffed arm and holding the book Jarvis had mentioned.  He walked right up to her and, with an overdramatic sigh, flung himself beside her and dropped his head directly in her lap.

She didn’t even put the book down.  However, her free hand settled onto Tony’s head, and he tried to purr like a cat but the sound ended up sounding as if he were passing gas.

“You’re back early,” she murmured.

“So are you,” Tony returned.  He snuggled down into the soft fabric of her skirt.  “Jarvis says he thought you were upset by something.”

Pepper sighed, and it wasn’t nearly as overwrought as Tony’s had been.  She closed her book, looking down at him with an expression of fondness in her eyes.  “You know, you shouldn’t really pay much attention when he talks about mortal feelings, because I don’t think he quite understands them.”  Her gaze turned up toward the ceiling.  “No offense, Jarvis.”

“None taken, Lady Pepper,” the air spirit answered, sounding somewhat magnanimous.

“I did think you were going to stay in the office today,” Tony pointed out. 

“I had planned on it,” she admitted, “but the meeting I had scheduled was postponed, and then Phil had to cancel our monthly lunch.  I was a bit disappointed at that, but not upset.  So, since I didn’t have anything else to do that couldn't wait, I decided to come home and get some reading done.  I hadn’t expected you to be free of the Council until nearly dinner time.  What have they done now?”

Tony huffed out a laugh. “Same shit, different day.  Although this time they tried it on me, and I wasn’t having any of it.  So I walked out.”

“You mean they actually tried to get you to turn over the Iron Mage Robe to them?”

She didn’t sound surprised, but then Tony shouldn’t have been either; he’d simply been caught off guard because Stern's voice had been putting him to sleep.  “Like they’d get anywhere even trying to duplicate the spells I created for it,” he answered dismissively.  “They even tried to throw Justin Hammer at me.  Like I couldn’t dodge _that_.”

“The Council needs to be replaced,” Pepper said.

“Yeah, it does.  But I also ran into King Nicky at the Archmage’s Tower and he made the point of saying he needs proof.  Right now we just have rumors and innuendo.  And not the good kind of innuendo.”

He really needed to work on that.  After today, Tony felt unable to wait for the old Archmages to die.  Change needed to come now, and not years in the future.

“You have that look,” Pepper commented, carding her hand though Tony’s hair.

“Have I ever told you, you have magic fingers?” he answered, dodging the subject.  “That’s your magical power…it’s in your fingers.  Oh, and your competence.  Yeah…fingers and competence.  And sheer brilliance –“

“Tony,” she said in that tone that meant she wasn’t buying his subject change.   She didn’t stop brushing her fingers through his hair, though.

He looked up at her fondly.  “Rhodey says I need to make an honest woman of you.”

Pepper rolled her eyes.  “You need to make an honest man out of yourself first.”

Triune, she really did have his measure.  “If you must know…”

“And you know you want to tell me.”

Tony really did.  Pepper gave such good advice…when Tony chose to take it, and when he didn’t she was invariably correct in the first place and he usually ended up having to make it up for doubting her.  “I was just thinking that waiting for the Archmages to die is going to take too long.  The reason His Majesty was there, was because there’s been word of possible demon sightings up north.  Jarvis,” he glanced away at some point in the corner of the room, as if he could actually see the air elemental, “what books do we have on demons?”  If anyone would know, it would be the spirit.  Jarvis knew everything about anything in the manor.

“I believe there are a few in the library,” Jarvis answered, as a few moments of consideration.  “Although they are out of date.  Of course, no new publications have been added to the library in quite a long time.”

“Yeah, I was afraid of that.” Demonology just wasn’t something he was interested in. “Have them taken up to my laboratory anyway.” 

“Yes, Sir.”

He looked back up at his lover.   “He was there to ask the Council for help,” he went on.  “Like that’s gonna work.  There’s nothing in it for them.  Forget that people could be put in danger.”

“You know they don’t care.  Look at what happened with the Albion refugees.”

Tony remembered that, even though it had been twenty years or more since King Uther had banned magic in his kingdom.  There had been a mass exodus of mages and other magical people and creatures into both the Protectorate and Genosha.  The Council had refused to recognize any of them and had protested, claiming they wanted to prevent a war, when the King had welcomed the refugees into the Protectorate.  It had been much worse when Uther’s ward, Morgana, had sought asylum.  She’d eventually travelled up into Asgard, despite Nicholas’ offer of a room in the Fortress, because of some pretty vicious rumors spread about her.  While, once again, they couldn’t prove the Council was behind it, Tony knew they’d done it to get rid of the poor girl.

“I asked him to send me what details they have,” Tony said.  “I doubt I’ll come up with much…”

“At least you’re willing to try.”   Pepper frowned.  “I wonder if that’s why Phil had to cancel our lunch.  He did say he didn’t know how long he’d be gone, and that Hawk was going with him.”

Tony had been unsure at first of his lover’s friendship with the Knights’ Commander.  Phillip Coulson was a good man, but he was too far into King Nicholas’ pocket and Tony hadn’t quite trusted him.  Plus – and wasn’t about to admit this to anyone, least of all himself – he’d been a bit jealous of the time Coulson spent with Pepper.  It wasn’t until Tony had learned that the Knights’ Commander already had a lover and could think for himself outside of Nicholas’ orbit that he’d felt better about it. 

Besides, the man had tamed a dragon.  That was pretty damned impressive in anyone’s books, especially since Tony hadn’t sensed much magic in Coulson at all.  It had been too bad, because after the few years of getting to knowing him Tony respected him enough to have offered him a place on any revamped sort of Archmage’s Council that would come after the current Council was gone.  But, with no magic Coulson simply would not fit.  He most likely wouldn’t have accepted anyway, quite content to terrorize the young people who thought they had what it took to become Knights.  Tony could get behind that sort of recreational sadism.

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” he answered.  He was well aware that Coulson wasn’t sent out on missions much anymore, but something like this…  “I could see it.  Nicky probably trusts him more than anyone else in the Protectorate.  Well, except for Admiral Hill, but I doubt the King's boinking Coulson like he is her.”  He sat up when he saw Pepper’s concern.  “He’ll be okay, Pep.   He’s got that pointy-eared lummox with him to keep him out of trouble.”

She sighed.  “Hawk is hardly a lummox.”                                                             

“Sure he is.  Anyone with arms that big…shit, he could crack walnuts in the bends of his elbows.”  Tony didn’t know Hawk that well, but he’d been impressed despite himself.  Not that he’d ever admit it, of course.  Tony Stark simply didn’t admit to things like that. 

Pepper shook her head fondly.  “Honestly, Tony.”

“Why be honest when I can be witty and charming?”  He winked at her.

“Yes, you are certainly charming.”  She stood, gathering her book up with her.

“You forgot witty!”

“No I didn’t.”  Pepper returned his wink, heading toward the door.

Tony caught up with her.  He took her gently by the wrist, turning her and pulling her into his arms.  “I’m going to kiss you until you admit I’m witty.”

Her mouth turned up in a teasing smile.  “Are you really?”

He didn’t say anything.  Instead, he leaned toward her…

“I have arranged to have the books you requested taken to your laboratory, Sir,” Jarvis cut in.  “As I thought, there were only three of them and they were indeed woefully out of date.”

“Thank you for wrecking the moment, Jarvis,” he snarked.

“I am happy to be of service, Sir.”

Was it Tony’s imagination, or had the elemental sounded smug?

Pepper gently disengaged herself from Tony’s embrace.  “Why don’t you go and do some research, and I’ll see what we’re going to have for lunch?”

“But, Pepper,” he whined, trying to catch her once more.

She easily dodged his attempts.  “Go and see what those books have to say, and I’ll call you when it’s time to eat.”

“I won’t know what to look for until I get the information from the King –“

“A package has arrived for you from the Fortress,” Jarvis put in.

Yes, that was definitely smugness.  Tony was going to have to see about that.

Pepper smiled.  “See?  It’s research time.”

Tony knew when he was beaten.  He pouted.  “Fine, I’ll go and poke my nose into dusty old books until I sneeze.  Will that make you happy?”

She didn’t answer.  Instead, she got close enough to peck him lightly on the lips, and then left the solar.  “I’ll let you know when lunch is ready,” she called back over her shoulder.

“It better be a fantastic meal!” he called back.  “I don’t let just anything take away from my Pepper time!”

Her crystal laughter echoed back to him, and Tony couldn’t help but smile.  He really did love that woman.

 


End file.
